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Saturday, I went to hang out at La’s, along with some hoar, this other hoar, Madge, Marie, and two other fine, fine, ladies who I think are blogless (I THINK). We had lots of fun, drank some wine, ate lots of delicious food, made snarky comments about other people and laughed our fool heads off. And even did some knitting! It was a good time.

Since “W(h)ine and cheese” was the theme of the day, I took some brie, some parmesan/reggiano, some crackers and some membrillo. If you’re a snot like some people, you’re probably thinking of silly things that sound like “membrillo” because you don’t know what it is. Well, smartasses, it’s quince paste, and it compliments cheese beautifully. It is delicious. I know my cheese accoutrements, people.

Wen, I’ve decided after tasting her key lime pie before and the cake she made this time, is quite the little gourmet. She’s not just good at frying the hair of the stars. I dreamed about that cake Saturday night. It was GOOD.

I was on the 91 freeway driving home. I was in the number two lane, and I noticed the guy in the lane next to me was a little too close to my lane, so when he got over back into his lane, I sped up to get by him. As soon as my car was next to his, he swerved over into my lane, and back into his (the only descriptive explanation I can offer is when nascar drivers go side to side to get debris off their tires). I looked over at him, and he looked like he was laughing. He jerked over into my lane again, and I had to swerve over into the other lane beside me to avoid him hitting me (thank god there was no one in that lane). I got past him, and looked in my mirror to see him swerve again, and then he spun and was sideways on the freeway, causing EVERYONE around him to have to slam on their brakes, which, at 75 miles per hour, can be very dangerous. If I hadn’t sped up to get by that guy, he would have totally hit me and my little Corolla would have been flung all over that fucking freeway. That was scary. Way more scary than I was prepared for, and I was shaking for about twenty minutes after.

Good times.

I’m kind of over the near-death experiences, universe.
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So, I watched Oprah interview my favorite scientology nutjob, and I have to say, it didn’t really reveal anything I didn’t already know - his marriage is creepy and fake, Oprah is a star-fucker who kept asking the same thing over and over and never asked Tom to go into detail about his responses, and in spite of all my opinions and all I know, I still fucking love Top Gun.

Though I am sure that movie’s not the only time Tom’s said the line, “You can ride my tail anytime.”